Rodeo: A Bad Boy Romance (FMX Bros Book 2) Read online

  RODEO

  FMX Bros #2

  BONUS NOVEL PRIVATE NORTH

  Tess Oliver

  RODEO

  Copyright© 2015 by Tess Oliver

  Cover Image by Mike Gill (@mikegillphoto)

  Cover Model: Jeff Morawski

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  CHapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  BONUS NOVEL: Private North

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  CHapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Tess Oliver

  Chapter 1

  Rodeo

  I moved my leg under the table and kicked Denver’s foot. He still didn’t pull his attention away from the brunette hugging the stripper pole with her sleek thighs.

  A laugh shot from my mouth. “For someone who rolled his eyes at the idea of going to a strip club, you sure are interested in what’s going on up there. Or maybe I should say what’s coming off.” I glanced over at Cole, who was trying hard to be the loyal boyfriend by pretending to be sort of disinterested as he sipped his beer.

  I rested back on the chair. “I’m rather liking this whole mermaid theme thing she has going on. I’ll never look at a seashell the same again.”

  “Creative use of pasties, that’s for sure,” Cole commented from behind his glass.

  I looked over at Denver, who was still pretty focused on the mermaid. “Hey, nerd boy, I’d bet that if they sent a dancer out dressed in nothing but a Darth Vader cape, you’d be sleeping with your hand on your cock all night.”

  Denver finally dragged his gaze away from the stripper. “I’m just wondering why you have time to blather on like a fool when a hot, naked woman is swinging her extremely symmetrical and perfectly rounded ass at you.”

  “Yep, symmetrical, that’s the word I was trying to think of. It was just at the tip of my tongue, you fucking walking dictionary.”

  The music was slowing and Denver pulled out a ten. The dancer leaned down and winked her blue eye at him as he shoved the bill into her g-string. He sat back down with a satisfied smile, the same smile he wore when he solved some big computer problem or some measurement issue at work. It was actually what made him so damn likable. He could rattle off brainy stuff while browsing through a Playboy magazine and never miss a beat. And the fact that he was fucking awesome at freestyle motocross made him pretty damn cool too.

  Long strings of pink lights were strung around the stage, and dark red curtains covered the back of the platform where the women slipped behind when their routine was over. Cheesy was the first word that had rolled out of Denver’s mouth when we’d stepped inside the Sunset Strip Club. Cheesy was the perfect one word description for the place. The beer was a little on the flat side too. But the dancers were beautiful, and we’d all been bored at home. I’d had the coupon for a free pitcher of beer in my wallet for a month, and I’d suggested we use it. Denver had put up the most opposition, like I knew he would. And even though Cole had been the model boyfriend to Kensington for the last three months, she’d gone off to a weekend long horse show and he had nothing better to do.

  “So, have you let Kensington know what you’re up to tonight?” Denver asked Cole.

  “Not yet. But I figure no harm in being a spectator. Besides, she’s got one of those Bull Rider hunk calendars hanging in her office in the barn.”

  Denver leaned back in his chair. “Yep, that’s almost the same thing as you sitting beneath a stage staring up at a woman’s naked ass. Oh, and then there was that twenty dollar bill you stuck so methodically and confidently down the front of the firewoman’s glowing red g-string. Yep, just like a calendar.”

  Cole poured himself another glass. “That’s right, it is. Kensington writes herself little sticky notes and sticks them all over those calendar guys.”

  “Again, boss, another incredibly ridiculous comparison.”

  Cole pulled out his phone. “Now you guys are making me feel like a heel. I’m going to text Kensie right now.” His thumbs flew over the keypad, and he narrated his text as he typed. “Hey, baby, what’s up? I’m at a strip club with Bozo and Poindexter.” He lifted his phone triumphantly. “See. No secrets between us, and Kensie’s super cool about stuff. That’s why I’m so nuts about her. Well, that and some other important stuff too.” His phone buzzed, and he looked at it. The color in his face blanched a little.

  “Well?” Denver asked. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Did she text back ‘have a super good time, bestus boyfriend in the world’?”

  “She texted one word. Why?” Cole’s chin twisted to the side as he seemed to be thinking of a good response.

  I grabbed a couple peanuts from the bowl on the table and cracked a shell between my fingers. “Tell her you had a coupon for free beer. She’ll be impressed by how well you’re managing your money.”

  “Good one.” Cole typed the response with a satisfied grin on his face.

  Denver’s attention was pulled away from the conversation as a spotlight fell on the back of the stage to announce the next dancer.

  I elbowed Cole and motioned toward Denver. “Looks like Denver from Boston has found another form of entertainment he likes as much as his comic books and flying his motorcycle through the air. Maybe it’s time to find our horny Einstein a woman.”

  Denver flipped me his middle finger without pulling his gaze from the stage. Rock and roll music thrummed through the crappy sounding speakers overhead. It just happened to be one of Black Thunder’s songs. Nicky King’s voice rained down over the polished stage and chrome stripper poles.

  Cole groaned. “Damn, my dad’s voice blaring from the speakers, if
that doesn’t just fucking kill the mood for me.” His phone buzzed again. His new expression at reading the text wasn’t any better than the last one. “Shit. She said for a man who grew up in Beverly Hills, a coupon for free beer is a lame excuse for a night out with naked women.” He typed again and muttered something about never taking advice from stupid fucking Rodeo about anything. “There. I wrote I love you. That should do it.”

  Denver chuckled and shook his head. His eyes remained riveted to the stage. Nicky King was still belting out one of his rock ballads through the gritty sounding speakers.

  The faded red curtains parted, and the next dancer stepped through them. She slinked out with an amazing pair of long legs sticking out from under a tiny sailor skirt. An anime style sailor blouse was tied up under her breasts and a rhinestone sparkled from her pierced belly button. A cute white sailor hat was pushed low over white blonde hair, and dark eyes glittered out from beneath the hat. And she could dance. The other girls had been moving to the music, but this girl knew what she was doing up there.

  She moved closer to the front of the stage. I sat forward, not just with interest, but with the odd feeling that I knew her. The way she moved was strangely familiar, as if I’d seen her dance before. She was just feet from the edge of the stage, and her pretty face swept my direction.

  I stared at the girl stunned as if someone had slapped me on the back. I knew those brown eyes. They were the kind of brown eyes that you couldn’t ever forget. They were the kind of brown eyes that whenever anyone talked about her, the girl swinging her leg around the pole on stage, they mentioned her eyes. The girl with the brown eyes. That was her.

  “Sayler,” I said on the long breath I’d been holding.

  “Good job, Rodeo.” Cole chucked me on the arm. “What gave it away? The little navy hat?”

  I heard him but couldn’t pull my eyes from the dancer in front of me. She swung around and leaned her head back, highlighting her doll-like profile. It was her. Not that I needed any more proof. I knew her eyes that well. Sayler Russell had always been wild and fun and as shitty at making decisions as me, which was why our year together had been both fucking amazing and doomed to failure. But never in a million years had I expected to see her on a stripper pole.

  Denver’s usual analyzing stare was boring a hole in the side of my face. “Someone you know?” he asked.

  I ignored the question. Some horny old dick several tables down stood up to salute her and held out a dollar bill as she untied her blouse and stripped down to a lacy bra. Suddenly I wanted to rush up to the stage, grab off my shirt and cover her.

  “Hey, buddy,” Cole’s voice drifted through the pounding music and the pulse in my ears, “you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m just fucking fine.” I watched as Sayler danced across the platform toward the money. She spun around and leaned over to touch the floor as the fat, drooling asshole with the dollar bill nearly fell from his chair in his enthusiasm to shove money under her short skirt. My body flew into action long before my brain had made any kind of decision. I heard my chair scrape the floor behind me as I raced over and stepped between the asshole with the cash and Sayler’s tiny skirt.

  The customer’s eyes nearly bulged from his round cheeks. “What the hell?” Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke.

  “Save your money.”

  Cole walked over. “Hey, bro, you’re attractin’ the attention of the bouncer, and he looks as mean as he is big.”

  I spun around, completely ignoring Cole and the hulking beast stomping across the barroom floor toward the stage.

  Sayler straightened and turned around with a stunned look on her face. Those unforgettable chocolate brown eyes flickered downward, in my direction. Her pink lips parted in surprise as my name rolled off of them. “Parker?” She stepped back on her blue high heels as her hand flew to her mouth. Her tiny skirt twirled as she swung around and disappeared through the curtains.

  I rushed to the end of the stage, throwing off the bouncer’s quest to grab me and wring me out like a wet towel. I raced around the hallway clutter, a mop and bucket, a trash can and a rack with stage clothes hanging off it. Light flashed in the otherwise poorly lit corridor, and a door snapped shut as I turned the corner. One door said maintenance and the other said dressing room. I grabbed the dressing room doorknob and yanked the door open.

  Sayler had just stepped into the room. Her eyes were wet with tears as she stared at me. Two other dancers were at their dressing tables. They hopped up in alarm, but the look Sayler shot them seemed to be a silent cue for them to leave. They got up and hurried out, making sure to cast me annoyed scowls as they sashayed past.

  The bouncer’s loud footsteps pounded in the hallway outside. I grabbed a nearby chair and jammed it under the doorknob to keep him out. I was in for a thorough fucking bouncing after this.

  Sayler wiped at the tears in her eyes.

  “I see you’re still a crazy good dancer.”

  Her thin shoulders shook and something that sounded like a laugh topped with a sob fell from her lips. She blinked her long lashes at me. She seemed to be just as stunned as I was to be standing in a room together.

  “What the hell, Sayler? When did you move to California? Why are you here in this crap joint?”

  She took a deep breath, but her voice was still shaky when she spoke. “I’m making a living. What the heck are you doing here?”

  I raked my fingers through my hair and nodded that she’d nailed me with her question. Sayler had always been quick and great at speaking her mind, a trait that had gotten her into plenty of trouble in high school. Especially in Montana where there were only fifteen kids to a class, and the strict school rules were from the middle ages.

  “Free beer coupon,” I said lamely in my defense.

  A glimmer of a smile crept up on her face but disappeared with a startle as a large fist smacked the door. “Shit, I’m going to be in so much trouble. You’ve got to get out of here, Parker. I need to get back on stage.” She walked over and stood close enough that I could see the tiny pieces of glitter in her makeup. None of it was her. The glitter, the makeup, hell—the stripping on stage.

  “What happened? I thought you married Kurt Greene, the high school football star,” I said the last words with sarcasm. “Thought you were settling down to life as a rancher’s wife.”

  “Oh, Parker”—her voice wobbled—“Kurt turned out to be every bit the asshole you warned me about. It all went to shit fast. My dad died of cancer, and his ranch was taken over by the bank. Kurt was—well, he was a monster. I had no place to go, and I needed to get away from him, so—”

  A fist pounded the door, nearly cracking it off its hinges and effectively startling Sayler into my arms. I held her against me and she sniffled against my shirt. I reached up and pushed my fingers under her chin to lift her face to mine. Tears were leaving clean white streaks in her makeup.

  “You knew I was in California. Why didn’t you call me?” I asked.

  The chair cracked apart as the door crashed open. The bouncer who’d looked like a fucking menace coming across the bar now looked like a monster with his hair on fire. His face was red with rage, and up close, he was even bigger.

  I pushed Sayler behind me, and his meaty fists grabbed my shirt.

  Cole and Denver ran into the room.

  “Hey, no problem, we’re going to get out of here,” Cole spoke quickly as if my life depended on it, which it probably did. He walked up with his diplomatic expression, the one he used when any member of the construction crew was pissed off about something. Denver and I called it his ‘I’ve got nothing in my hand, but I’m going to win this poker game’ face. “What’s your name, bro?” Cole asked as if they were just meeting at a friendly party.

  “To you three, I’m hell’s fucking spawn.” The bouncer’s voice boomed through t
he room even though he spoke quietly. His thick fingers tightened around my shirt and he managed to pinch some skin at the same time. I was six foot, and I was looking at the dude’s chest.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Denver grab a piece of the broken chair. Just in case. He was that strategic thinking friend you always wanted on your side in a fight.

  Sayler scooted around us, ducked under the spawn’s gargantuan arms and squeezed up between us. We were like two lopsided pieces of bread on a girl sandwich. “Max, it’s not his fault. He was coming to check on me.” She was putting on an extra flirty tone, and it seemed to be softening up the beast. But his grip hadn’t loosened. “I was dizzy for a second, and I had to get off stage. I’ll go back on right now.”

  “No,” I said abruptly.

  Sayler looked back at me over her shoulder. I shook my head telling her not to go back out there. Her face saddened. “You don’t understand, Parker.” The words were only for me to hear.

  She turned back around. “These guys are going to leave quietly, and I’ll get back on stage.” She ducked beneath Max’s arm again. “See. I’m going out there right now.”

  “Sayler, just come home with us,” I pleaded. “We’ll figure something out to help you.”